Performativity
by Ari Moriarty
Summary: A rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet. Naoto x OC, for Miss Hanamura.


**Author's Note: **I actually did this free-write last night, again as a vent to the frustration I was dealing with after a rehearsal gone horribly wrong. I know, I didn't update any of my actual stories today or write anything that I'd promised both you and myself to write. Please forgive me, I had to take a multi-hour exam that at up all my time. Tomorrow, please expect the thrilling conclusion of **Showtime**, and an update either to **Plainclothes** or **Piecekeeping**, depending on how much time I find. Thanks for reading!

This, of course, is for the wonderful **Miss Hanamura**, as Erin Suzuki belongs entirely to her.

**Performativity**

"I…I can't do it," murmured Erin Suzuki, staring down at the script in her hands with a look of meek desperation beginning to spread across her face. "It's just not clicking for me…maybe I'm just not ready for this character."

Naoto Shirogane, who had been, up until that moment, engrossed in a series of riveting detective stories, glanced up and gave Erin a quizzical look. "I'm sorry," she said. "We don't seem to be on the same page. What exactly are we talking about?"

"No, I'm sorry," sighed Erin. "I'm not trying to bother you. It's just…this role. I thought that this was going to be my big break, but…when I read it, it just doesn't feel right, somehow. It's not me. I mean…" Frowning, she bit her lip, and then turned the script around to face Naoto. "These lines, they're..there's so much anger in this character, so much vengeance…it's frightening. I'm not violent, or proud…I'm just Erin. They'll laugh when they see little me trying to take up this much emotional space on that stage. No one'll believe it for a second."

Erin watched the calculating frown drift its way across Naoto's face. "I don't understand," murmured Naoto eventually. "Is acting not supposed to be the art of portraying someone who is other than yourself? That is, after all, the point of suspending one's disbelief, is it not?"

"Yeah, well…" Erin mumbled. "There might be such a thing as too much disbelief. Some great women have played this role. It's been made into movies, and done on Broadway in New York City, and even in London! I'm not…I'm not that good. I'm not that powerful. I'm not going to pull this off. I'm not-!"

"I'm not really called 'Naoto,' you know," said Naoto unexpectedly.

Erin blinked at her, her train of thought temporarily derailed. "Wait, you're not? Well, um, of course you're not. I knew that, I think, but, um…why?"

"Why am I not called Naoto?" asked Naoto.

Erin shook her head. "No, why would you tell me that now?"

"Ah." Naoto closed her book and set it down beside her, folding her arms over her chest and gazing academically just past Erin's left ear, as though she were about to begin a lecture on the reproductive habit of the housefly, or something just as impersonal. "Well, perhaps I am wrong…and I accept the likelihood of that, seeing as I have very little, if any, experience with the art of stagecraft. Be that as it may, you have come to accept me as Naoto Shirogane, have you not?"

"Um. Yes," agreed Erin.

"And Naoto Shirogane, in essence, is a character," continued Naoto. "She, or rather, he, is a character that I adopt in interactions with both peers and adults alike, in order to further my professional goals. Though you may be fully aware of the fact that my identity is that of a female high schooler, I can only assume that you see me in your mind's eye as a masculine detective…correct?"

"Right. I mean. At least, when we're not…" Suddenly, she blushed. Naoto, however, seemed unperturbed.

"In the end," insisted Naoto, "it all comes down to perfomativity. Performativity, that is, being the performative construct of identity, or the creation, through speech and action, of an assumed identity that one presents, for whatever reason, to the world at large. I perform the role of Naoto Shirogane, and you, having become accustomed to that performance, believe it subconsciously, even though you are, at the same time, fully aware of the fact that my identity is other than what I play. The way I see it, you are in a similar situation. While you are Erin Suzuki, and cannot be anything else but Erin Suzuki, you must take it upon yourself to perform the role of…well, whomever it is. As you become further acquainted with the role, those around you will come rather to see the role itself as a part of you, rather than to see you as one who is performing the role." She paused for a moment, and then blinked, as though suddenly aware that she may have gone on at some length. "Does…that make sense?"

Erin smiled. "A rose by any other name," she murmured.

Naoto raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"What's in a name?" asked Erin, in the same musical sort of tripping voice that she only used when the spirit of the stage struck her. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. So Naoto would, were she not Naoto called, retain that dear perfection which she owes without a title." She let the sentence dip down and die away at the end, leaving Naoto watching her with slightly parted lips, as though about to say something, but not quite sure what.

"What was that?" asked Naoto eventually.

"It's from Romeo and Juliet," Erin informed her. "A famous monologue about how love is love, no matter what we call the one we love. Pretty, don't you think?"

For some reason, Naoto seemed to be turning slightly pink. Glancing away from Erin for a moment, she said, apparently to the floor, "Ah, yes…it is rather pretty, actually."

Another moment of gentle silence elapsed between them before Naoto unexpectedly spoke again.

"I am not sure," she murmured, "why you would call yourself an insufficient or bad actress. I am…really not sure at all."


End file.
